The Struggle
by Lord of the Fangirls
Summary: Life is hard for Cherokee Brown. She's dealt with abuse, depression, and heartbreak. Will the burden become too much too bear? Or will she pull through?


**Hello everyone! I am _Lord of the Fangirls_! Lovely pen name, I know. Anyway, I just want to properly warn you before you start reading this chapter. **

**1. There are suicidal thoughts and an attempted suicide in this chapter. If you find this disturbing, then you don't have to read it. I will not be tolerating negative comments or PM's.**

**2. There are mentions of sexual and physical abuse in this chapter. If you find this disturbing, please, just don't read it if it makes you uncomfortable. However, I'm only MENTIONING it. No graphic detail in this chapter.**

**Well, you have been warned. I hope you enjoy reading it!**

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><p>My eyes snapped open, my breathing was hard as though I'd just run a marathon. My heart was beating faster, and louder than a snare drum. My body was shaking in a cold sweat from something that I couldn't even remember.<p>

_Damn_ _it! _I thought, fully awake from an unknown fear. _I wished I could remember my dreams! _

It bothered me so much because, whatever it was about, it had petrified me.

Seeing as though I was already awake, I decided to check the time. I wanted to see if I had enough time to fall back asleep, before I had to get ready for school.

2:54 glowed eerily in mulitcolors.

_Are you fucking kidding me?! _I silently swore to myself. _I'll never get back to sleep._

Since falling asleep was out of the picture, I decided to listen to some music. After sifting through several stations, I just left it at 95. 7, even though it was on commercial. The music was merely background noise for my thoughts. It also helped me feel less alone at this early hour. Even though that I knew, in my heart, that I would be forever alone.

I couldn't help that I thought this. It was true. I had to deal with this all of the time.

I knew that today would be a rough day at school. Not that I was being bullied. I wish. At least then I would be noticed. At least then somebody would care. At least someone would try to save me from the endless pit of despair in my mind. At least I would have someone. But I don't. No one notices the pain, burning in my eyes. No one cares that when I get low, I burn my wrists in an attempt to keep me from killing myself. No one is helping me go through this.

I have to do it alone.

And now that the year was coming to a close, all my "friends" will go of to their colleges, to start their lives which don't include me. Most won't even remember my name by the end of the first week of summer vacation. But since we still have about a month of school left, people pretend that they're going to miss me. They act like I made a difference in their lives, even though I didn't.

The year was ending. I hated it.

My thoughts were getting low again, so I didn't trust myself to stay in my room, where it would be all too easy to just end everything. So I decided to head into the bathroom to calm down.

I closed the door and stared back at my reflection. As I did that, every single name that I had been called came to mind. Bitch. Slut. Attention whore. Loser. Fat. Ugly. Worthless. Emo. Freak. Monster. The voices were getting louder. It was getting to be too much.

The girl in the mirror was breaking. I could see it in her cold, golden brown eyes. She may be only eighteen, but dark circles frame her eyes. She was nothing. It didn't matter if she wore makeup, or styled her dark, chocolate hair. She was nothing.

Eve though I'm happy that I'm off to college, and done with high school, I was still uneasy. I hated that nothing changed. I hated that another year was ending, with regrets. I'm sure everyone has their regrets, but I just have too many.

There are so many things that I wished that I had said, or done. Now it's getting to be too late.

* * *

><p>"What are your plans for the summer, Cheri?" Joss asks, interrupting my thoughts. Joss was my best friend. She had light, golden skin, dark, silky hair and dark eyes that were filled with curiosity. She has helped me through thick and thin, yet even she only knows a sliver of the torment that I've been going through these last six years. She was the only one who could find the cracks in my mask of indifference, but even she doesn't know the full extent of my pain.<p>

I had already hesitated, and I knew that she would know what I was thinking, so I quickly answered, "Uh, I'm not entirely sure," to make it seem like I was thinking of what to say. Not about how worthless I am.

Even though the others seemed alright with my answer, Joss didn't appear to be fooled. Joss knew that I was hurting, but didn't want to admit it, so she reluctantly let it go. For now.

After the moment of doubt, my friends carried their conversation to another topic. If my best friend didn't care about me, then who will?

* * *

><p>The day seemed to drag on almost endlessly. Every classroom was hot and humid, packed with students who were ecstatic to move on and go to new places. The hallways were filled with laughter and littered with happiness.<p>

_I wish that I had a reason to smile, _I thought to myself sadly._ I wish that I had a reason to laugh. I wish I had a reason to live._

* * *

><p>As I walked home, something didn't feel right. I'm not talking about feeling more depressed than usual. I just knew that something bad had happened.<p>

Turns out I was right. And for once, I wish I wasn't.

In the driveway was a police cruiser. Leaning on the drivers' side door was a tall female cop with intense blue eyes, and brown, wavy hair tucked back into ponytail. Her face was fairly neutral, except for her eyes. There was a sadness in them. Pity.

_What have I done wrong this time?_ I thought. _Is it now a crime for me to be born?_

"Hello, are you Cherokee Brown?" she asked, her voice revealing as much as her expression.

"Yes, is there a problem, Officer?" my tone was polite as I awaited her response.

"I'm sorry to inform you that both your parents and sister were killed in an auto accident."

* * *

><p>Silence.<p>

My heart stopped beating.

I stopped breathing.

I stopped thinking.

I stopped living.

Silence. Whatever else the officer said was lost in this painful silence that prequeled realization. Once the reality of the words hit me, I didn't know what to do.

Mom. She was sometimes a neat freak, and was always tough on me, but she was also honest and pushed me to succeed. Dad. He always lectured me about every mistake I had made, but he also tried so hard to make life easy for all of us. Mercedes. Mercedes was just twelve years old. She had her whole life ahead of her. Sure she can be a pain in the ass, what little sister isn't, but she was also my best friend. And now she was gone.

They were all gone.

* * *

><p>The next few days were rough. I guess I was still in shock. Everything seemed ethereal. I would do my morning routine, but instead of my mother and sister getting ready for their job and school, there was silence. When I came home, instead of my family greeting me, there was silence. However, school was the worst. At school, everyone was sympathetic.<p>

I hated it.

A majority of them didn't understand the empty void in my heart, the dull ache in my chest, the burning I felt from trying to keep tears from pouring out of my eyes. Everyone gave me sympathy. They always said how sorry they were for my loss, and offered their condolences.

I hated it.

I hated it because I knew that once I gave in, then they would really be dead. Then I will truly be alone.

* * *

><p>It's been a week since that unfortunate afternoon. This time I was taking the bus, because it had started to pour. It was as though the sky itself decided to pay their respects. Everyone was uncomfortably kind, and it was a little disturbing. A mere week ago I was no one. Invisible. But now that I have lost someone, I'm suddenly important? Where had they been when I was assaulted? Or when I was beaten by my ex-boyfriend? Did I really not matter that much before?<p>

Apparently so. However, not everyone thought that I deserved this added attention.

As I took a seat towards the back of the bus, I saw Timothy getting bullied, once again, by Lorraine. Timothy was a quiet guy, he was about 6'0, yet really skinny. He also had a military style mop of dusty brown hair, with eyes the same color. He was so kindhearted and never used a harsh word, but also couldn't fend for himself.

Lorraine was a typical attention whore, always flirting, always wearing clothes that would be considered inappropriate in even strip clubs and wore twenty pounds of makeup to cover up the dozens of zits that were scattered around on her face. She had short, coal black hair, and dull eyes the same color. She always whined and begged like a pathetic puppy, and when that doesn't work, she'll fight her way into claiming what she believes is rightfully hers.

This time, Lorraine had asked Timothy if she could sit with him. The bitch asked as though she didn't hear him say no the three other times she asked him. Instead of asking a fifth time, she shoved him harshly into the seat, and sat her twig-skinny ass down. For some reason, that made my blood boil.

Then it hit me.

Poor Timothy was so sweet and quiet, just like Mercedes was. Was. Before she was killed. Before her life ended before it even started. And I know that if anything like that would've happened to my sister, the bitch who messed with her would end up in the hospital.

"Why can't you just leave him alone?" I asked, my tone cold and serious. The entire bus fell silent. During the entire week, I had barely spoken. In fact, for most of the year I would rarely talk to anyone. I suppose people wanted to hear what I had to say.

"He obviously doesn't want to sit with you, so why can't you just leave him alone?"

"Well, it's a two-seater. It's made for two people." she replied, like the little smart ass she was. Her snotty tone made me want to slap her across the face, but I controlled my temper.

_Where is all this anger coming from? _I thought.

Maybe I had bottled up my emotions for too long. All I knew what that hell was about to break loose.

"I'm well aware that two-seaters are made for two people." I answered back in the same, icy tone. "But I'm sure that you know that you can pick who you sit with, and Timothy obviously doesn't want to sit next to you."

"Just shut the fuck up. You are only saying all this shit, 'cuz you ain't got nothing to lose." she snapped back, anger leaking out of her voice. "Didn't your mom teach you how to keep your mouth shut and mind your own damn business? Or did she die before she had the chance?"

Everyone stared at Lorraine in horror. I stared at her with pure rage before I tackled her.

I leapt over the seat and gripped two fistfuls of hair in my hands.

"DON'T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT MY MOTHER!" I screeched, before I slammed her head against the cold, dirty floor of the bus.

One, two, three times, her head hit the floor before she was unconscious. Before I could slam her head a fourth time, one set of arms locked around my waist, while another tried to untangle my fingers from Lorraine's greasy hair.

"I'M NOT DONE WITH YOU YET!" I roared before aiming a sharp kick, right at her ribs. A sickening crack echoed throughout the bus.

The person who was holding onto my waist was saying things, but I could not hear them while I was still seeing red.

My blood was boiling. My heart was racing. My breathing was erratic.

I felt alive.

* * *

><p>"Calm down, Cherokee." cooed a soft, husky male voice. "Just calm down."<p>

Now that most of my anger has melted away, I could now hear the person who was holding me. I still couldn't see his face, but I could feel myself relaxing.

I missed them. Even though I never told them everything that happened, they were always there for me. I had so many chances to talk to them, and now I'll never get the chance.

The sadness was returning, and I still felt raw from my little anger outburst. I knew I was going to break down.

Whoever was holding me, was slowly releasing his grip. I needed someone to hold me. To be my anchor. To keep me here. So, I broke from his embrace, and turned around too fast to catch a glimpse of his face before wrapping my arms around his neck. Not two seconds later, tears started prickling my eyes before falling down my cheeks. The guy seemed surprised at first, but after a few moments, he started rubbing my back and whispering more soothing words.

"It's alright, Cheri."

It wasn't alright. Everything was wrong. So many things have happened to me that were wrong. I've been abused, mocked, and ignored for most of my life. No one knew what I was going through because I knew that they wouldn't have understood. They would've given me false sympathy, and I would've lived under the false hope that people actually cared.

But no one did.

Finally, after a few minutes, I managed to pull myself together. I still felt awful, but I managed to bottle up my pain. Tears stopped falling, and my face remained neutral. I picked my head up from the guy's, who I had held onto for dear life, neck and was surprised at who it was.

Sean Mallory. I never thought he of all guys would help me. I can't really say that we were friends, but he and I would sometimes talk about sports and school, considering we had common interests. However, as the years went by, I became less interested in things and we haven't spoken much since. It was ironic considering we had three classes together.

Anyway, Sean was 5'9, about four inches taller than me, with dark brown hair that framed his pale skin, and sad eyes that were a shockingly bright hazel. He was smart, getting a 4.1 GPA every marking period. He was also athletic and loved soccer with a passion. He seemed happy with his life.

I wished I had the same luxury

* * *

><p>"Cherokee, are you okay?"<p>

Why did people always ask this meaningless question? I mean, Sean just saw me knock a girl unconscious and cry about a minute later, and he was asking if I was okay?

"Yeah. I'm fine." was my automatic response. If anyone had known the hell that I've been through, then he would've known how big of a lie it was.

However, he didn't seem to believe me anyway. He just furrowed his dark eyebrows, as he pondered what he would say next.

"Well, you realize that you missed your stop, right?" He said, his tone bored as he tried to change the subject nonchalantly.

"Aw shit." I replied, as I face palmed. I had forgotten that we were on the bus. Great. I wondered how far away I was from home. I looked out the window, and was surprised that we were at Dunkin' Donuts'. Sean and I and the other kids got out the bus, going in separate directions. Sean lingered, obviously thinking of what to say, while I slowly started to walk down the sidewalk. It would only take me about twenty minutes to walk back to my empty home.

_Maybe I should just walk in the middle of the road. _I thought. _Maybe I'll get hit by a car and I won't be so alone._

Sensing the dark turn of my thoughts, Sean suddenly jerked up and said, "Hey, would you like me to walk you home?" I turned around and saw that he had followed me. He had a pleading look in his hazel orbs.

_Dammit! Curse his sad puppy eyes!_ I cursed silently, but I knew that I would give in. I couldn't reject him when he looked at me like that. If only he knew how much he affected me. How he has affected me for the past five years_._

_"_If you want to," I answered, my voice was devoid of all emotion. "I don't care."

Looking relieved, before he too put on an emotionless face, he came to my side and we began walking to my house.

During the entire trip we exchanged a few words, but, for the most part, we walked in a comfortable silence. Shockingly enough, it was Sean who was starting the conversation. It was odd because Sean wasn't much of a talker. I used to be. When things mattered. Sean was asking about my plans for college, my grades this year, if I still played soccer. He actually looked wounded when I told him that I was offered an academic and sports scholarship to Yale and I was thinking of turning it down.

"I don't know if I want to keep on playing soccer." _Even though it has been the main reason why I'm still here today. Because it was the only thing that I was good at. But now, if I do play, no one will be there to cheer me on._ I didn't say the last part though. I didn't want Sean to think that I was more broken than I already was.

"Why not though? You're pretty good. Not better than me, of course." he added with a slight smile, teasing me.

I scoffed in mock annoyance. "Pretty good?! Are you serious? I may have only been playing for seven years, but I'm pretty freaking awesome!"

He chuckled and shook his head. His laugh was so warm, that it brought my spirits up as well. I couldn't help but to actually feel...happy.

"How about we see for ourselves on the field?" Sean challenged.

"You're on."

* * *

><p>"Okay." Pant, pant. "Your really good."<p>

"What?" Pant. "Are you tired," Pant. "Already?" I teased, also slightly out of breath. We had run eight miles and jogged up and down the bleachers ten times. We also sprinted one hundred meters.

"Shut up." Sean snapped, his embarrassment showing clearly as he tried to defend his bruised ego. "I could do more, but I don't want to embarrass you."

With that comment I laughed. I really laughed. Sean looked a bit taken aback, but then he joined in.

_He acts like he's never heard me laugh before. _I thought to myself, before realizing that he probably hasn't. No one has. Even before the death of my family, people were lucky if they saw me give them a half-smile. But it was never genuine. Now it was.

After a few more moments, I managed to calm down enough to say, "You wanna get a drink at my house?"

"Sure."

* * *

><p>"Thanks." Sean said after I gave him a Gatorade. The high school field was just down the street, so it only took us five minutes to reach my house. We had raced each other back, and got there at the same time. Now, we were seated in the kitchen, sitting across from each other, a small, black table between us.<p>

It was eerily quiet. The only sounds were our panting and the gulping of Gatorade. The quiet reminded me of them. When they were alive it was never quiet. There was always some sort of sound, whether it was TV, music, or an audiobook, there was rarely a moment where this house was silent. However, now, every time I come home all I hear is silence.

Finally, Sean caught his breath and asked, "What's wrong?" His eyes were filled with curiosity and worry. He seemed to genuinely care.

"It's so quiet here." I answered simply. Sean patiently awaited the rest of my response. "Little things remind me of them. I wish they were still here." _I wish I could take their place._

"I know what it's like to lose someone close to you." Sean said, his voice was thick with emotion. "My brother was killed four years ago. He was ran over by a truck. I still miss him, but it doesn't hurt as much. It's not that I'm used to it, but I have accepted that he is gone and won't come back. You can't begin to heal unless you accept it."

"How am I supposed to accept their deaths?" I snapped, my voice slowly rising in anger and pain. "Mercedes was only twelve. She was starting middle school. She had her whole life ahead of her! She had something to live for, but now she's dead! Why couldn't it have been me?!"

Sean's eyes widened in surprise and disbelief as he processed what I just said. "What do you mean? Do you want to die?" His tone was quiet, as if he wasn't sure how I was going to react to what he had just said. "Why would you want to die?"

"Since when did you care?" I roared out in frustration, my emotions that had been repressed for so long, were about to explode. "Before my family died, you never even spoke to me. So why do you all of a sudden care about me? I'm just a nobody that you probably will never see again! Your gonna pretend to care about me, but once the year ends, your gonna abandon me like everyone else!"

Silence. Sean looked like I had just slapped him across the face, his hazel orbs filled with hurt. I knew it was hash, but the truth hurts.

I should know.

Without another word, Sean silently got up, and mumbled a goodbye, before leaving.

Now the house was silent again. And I felt empty, once again.

* * *

><p>The next day, after telling the principal what had just occurred, and getting off with a warning, I was thoroughly confused when Sean sat right next to me in Global Studies.<p>

"Aren't you mad at me?" I whispered quietly. I didn't understand why he would want to sit next to me, especially since I obviously hurt is feelings yesterday. I never was good at reading people.

"No." Sean responded, looking perplexed as well. "Why would you think that?"

"Because of what had happened yesterday."

"No, Cheri, I'm not mad at you. I know you might not think it, but you're my friend and I care about you." Before I could respond, he added, "And I will prove it to you."

* * *

><p>Sean kept his word for the next five months. For the rest of the school year, he would walk me to and from school, and sit next to me in all our shared classes. He even sat with me at lunch. Everyone was surprised with Sean's sudden interest in me, but they were even more shocked at how I'd changed. I started laughing and smiling on a daily basis. It was easier to enjoy life, and easier to trust the happiness. I was uneasy at first, because every time I felt happy, something bad usually followed. However, Sean helped me keep the happiness.<p>

At graduation, Sean yelled louder than anyone there when I walked across the stage. He was happily surprised when I cheered him on as well.

During the summer, Sean came almost everyday and we would both train. We would spend hours running around the track, the bleachers, the sidewalks, even the sand on the beach. He made me feel like I had purpose again. The house didn't feel so empty anymore. I felt more complete.

When school started again, I was pleasantly surprised when I found out that Sean was going to Yale as well. We spent the first two months figuring our way around campus, and dealing with the mountain load of assignments. Even though we shared three classes, we spent a lot less time with each other. But somehow, we still managed to stay close.

However, things were about to take a turn for the worse.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Cheri!" Sean shouted from the end of the hallway. I patiently waited for him to jog to my side before we continued walking to our Biology class.<p>

"What are you all excited about?" I asked, curiosity filling my golden brown eyes.

"You know Melissa? Graceson?" he asked, his voice higher than normal with excitement. I nodded after a moment. All I remembered was that she was short, with pale skin, short dark brown waves, and medium brown eyes.

"Well," he seemed a little sheepish, his cheeks were lightly dusted with pink. "You know how we used to go out? Well, we are going back out."

* * *

><p>Pain.<p>

It was as though he stabbed me in the chest, straight through my already abused heart.

Over the last five months, we became closer. The more I got to know Sean, the more I liked him. However, I didn't want to lose him, so I buried my feelings. I didn't want to lose him because he has become my anchor. He kept me from going over the edge. From falling so deep, that I could never hope to come out. But now I felt as if my lifeline was cut loose. I was drifting back to my old ways, the ways that I barely survived.

_I never should've let him get close to me. _I thought in regret. _Every time I open up, someone always hurts me. No one can be trusted._

That last bit hurt the most because I thought I had finally found someone who could understand and accept me. Obviously not.

Stupid. Naïve. Foolish. Ugly. Worthless. Loser. Freak. Monster. The voices were coming back, just like before. I knew that I couldn't keep them quiet for long.

* * *

><p>"Hello?" asked Sean, breaking my dark train of thoughts. "Did you hear what I said?"<p>

"Oh. I'm sorry. I just spaced out." I lied, trying desperately to keep the pain out of my voice. "I'm so happy for you."

Relief washed over his face. "Thanks, Cheri. I just wanted to make sure you knew because you're a great friend." Friend. That was all he thought of me.

Friend. It was even worse that what the voices would call me. It reminded me how nobody will ever love me. How I will always be alone.

* * *

><p>You know life sucks. There are often more downs than ups and most of the time it isn't worth it. I spend so many nights awake, remembering everything. When I got assaulted. Every burn I have made. Every thought of suicide. All the names that I have been called. And you know what? Most of all, I wonder why I'm still alive. What is the point of living, when all you feel is despair and hopelessness? Why do I keep torturing myself?<p>

I have to end this cycle of madness.

I can't keep going on like this. Just merely existing. Having no purpose.

I just can't.

Tears are leaking out of my eyes and I'm staring at my reflection in the mirror of my bathroom. My eyes are rimmed red, but, even though they are sad, they are also empty.

It's as if I was already dead.

How could he have missed this? How could have everyone not noticed this broken girl? This tortured soul? Are they that oblivious? Was she really that great at hiding her pain? Or did they just not care?

My heart is thumping out of my chest, my breathing was fast and sharp. I didn't know what was happening.

I quickly opened the medicine cabinet, desperately searching for a painkiller or anti-depressant. I needed to calm down. My heart was beating too fast. I couldn't single out a beat. Every second it got faster and faster until it pounded in a single thrum.

I managed to find them right next to each other and something told me to take both.

_Maybe I can finally silence those voices._

It seemed so unreal that there was a possibility that I could silence the voices that have plagued my mind for years. To wake up one morning without feeling like I was already gone, and that nothing could ever save me from myself. To wake up with a purpose.

Through my daze, I heard a ringing. It sounded like my phone. But the pain as building in my chest, and I didn't have time to answer it. Also, the possibility of actually feeling something other than this depression was too sweet to resist.

I just needed to relax.

I opened the bottle for the painkillers and downed them. Without a second thought I did the same with the anti-depressants.

_Now I can relax._

The world was getting dark. I felt dizzy and it didn't help that it seemed like the entire room was spinning, too fast for me to process. My head was pounding, like someone was knocking, and seconds before I passed out, I looked straight into hazel orbs, filled with horror.

* * *

><p><em>Beep. Beep. <em>echoed in my mind. My head was pounding in time to the beeping. My mouth was dry, as though I had eaten a mouthful of cotton.

"She is very lucky to have you." an unfamiliar voice said. "If you had gotten to her any later, she most likely would not have survived."

"Is she going to be alright?" asked a low, husky voice that I couldn't place.

The other man seemed to hesitate before saying, "I'm not sure. It seemed as though she had an anxiety attack, which we could call an accidental overdose. But I believe that it wasn't an accident. You see, she has scars on her wrists that indicate that she has been burning herself for six or seven years. Also, we found out that she had not only mixed painkillers and an anti-depressant, but she overdosed severely. It seemed like a suicide attempt, but we are going to have her see a psychiatrist to determine how mentally stable she is."

* * *

><p>I opened my heavy eyelids a couple minutes later, when I thought I was alone. However the first thing I saw were weary, worried hazel eyes.<p>

"Cherokee!" he exclaimed, his worried expression replaced with relief. Since when did he care? "Are you alright? Do you remember anything that happened?"

I hesitated, not sure if I should tell him. I didn't want him to feel guilty for something that wasn't his fault. But it was his fault. Not directly, of course, but he was the one who pushed me over the edge. Who caused me to do what I had wanted to do for many years. Yet, he saved me. No, he kept me prisoner in this world. I just wanted to be happy, but he snatched away the blissful nothingness that has been beckoning me for years.

"I'm fine." my voice croaked slightly from disuse, but was harsh as ever. "And I can't remember everything that happened."

"Do you want to talk about something that's been bothering you?" Sean asked, his eyes now filling with sympathy. "You know I'm here for y-"

"No." I interrupted, feeling unworthy of his pity. "I just want to sleep."

Sean didn't look too happy, but he knew better than to press me any more on the matter and left after giving me a quick hug and mumbling a goodbye.

I was alone once more.

* * *

><p>"Hello, Cherokee Brown, my name is Dr. Angela Clover." greeted a friendly woman in her early forties. She had her curly blonde hair, pulled back in a loose ponytail, and warm brown eyes. She came right up to the bed and shook my hand while I just nodded my head in acknowledgement. I didn't trust her. I've dealt with psychiatrists before, and you can see how much they've helped me.<p>

"Now, Cherokee," she began after seating herself in one of the empty chairs by my bed. I knew for a fact that there were only three people that would actually visit me. Sean, Joss and Sam. Sam was also a close friend, and cousin to Sean. She was 5'7, with long, straight golden hair, and bright brown eyes. After Sean had left, both Joss and Sam visited me. Joss was crying, as soon as she walked in she jumped on top of the bed and squeezed the crap out of me. Sam had looked concerned herself, but she expressed it by slapping me upside the head and telling me to stop doing "stupid stuff".

"Would you like to tell me what happened last night?"

For the next half hour, I explained what had transpired. I spoke little of my past, saying how I moved around a few times so I learned not to get too close to people. I also told her, at her request, my academic and physical success. She seemed nosy, but I suppose that was her job. She asked several questions about my family and about how I was dealing with their death, before she said that she had heard enough.

"Thank you, Cherokee." Dr. Clover said in parting. "It was nice speaking with you."

She walked out the room and left the door open just a crack. She probably didn't trust me in a closed room, even though I knew it would pretty much be impossible to kill myself in a hospital. I wasn't that fucked up in the head.

"How is she?" asked Sean._ Damn it! He's still here?! The fuck?!_

"Well," Dr. Clover started. Now I see why she left the door open. She apparently wanted me to hear the conversation. "Cherokee obviously has been suffering from mild depression for several years. However, most likely, her family's death made her depression worsen. That is just the tip of the iceberg."

"What do you mean, Angela?" the other doctor asked, a little puzzled. I was confused too. What else was wrong with me?

"She also has a moderate case of the bipolar disorder, chronic insomnia, has social anxiety and is prone to regular anxiety attacks and has severe anger issues. I definitely do not recommend her living on her own for a least a year. She's slightly unstable, and she needs someone to be with her to keep her from going over the edge. Also, I recommend having her see me once every two weeks to make sure she stabilizes."

They were all silent for a moment as they processed the information. Depressed. Bipolar. Insomniac. Anxious. Anger problems. Is that all? Or are there more things wrong with me?

* * *

><p><strong>And this is the end. I'm sorry it is so long, but I hate short chapters. If you would prefer me to continue the story, please leave a review or feel free to PM me. I would like to know that someone is actually reading and enjoying the story so don't hesitate to leave a review. Good bye!<strong>


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